I won't say I'm in love
by Kayleigh90
Summary: Short story about Poland's feelings to France. FranPol and some PolLiet. Napoleon era.


**„I won't say I'm in love"**

Poland was coming back to France's place. He was smiling cheerfully. He was on a little walk around Paris probably the most beautiful city in this world. He could say for sure that he was happy, much happier than ever. „Why?", someone could ask. His country didn't exist several years. Of course, he tried to fight for his freedom. But now he was happy. Because of the Duchy of Warsaw? Maybe, even if it was only a substitute of his dreamt freedom.

The evening was coming, so Feliks was returning to Francis' house which was now like his second home. He seemed to be excited, like he couldn't wait for something. Something between only him and _his _France. In his imagination Poland could see Francis' beautiful eyes and smile and hear, how he would say his name:

„_Felix… Bonsoir__1__"_, he heard these words in his head.

He could only think about petting that Francis made with him almost every night several years. What did he plan for tonight? A new caress? Or maybe a new way of kissing?

Poland was already near Francis' home. He stopped for a moment and tried to make his hair look better. When he looked up and he could see the light in Francis' bedroom. He wanted to smile, thinking about this evening with _him_ only but… Suddenly he saw a familiar silhouette: Francis' silhouette. But France wasn't alone. He was with one of _his_ women. First, Feliks didn't want to believe this. He tried to think:

„Maybe she's going out…"

But no. After a while he could see that Francis was kissing that young woman. And it was not kissing a kiss in the cheek or forehead. It was this kind of kissing that people called „French".

Poland felt that his heart was kind of broken.

„Why?", he thought. „Why are you doing this to me, _François_?"

He was sad. Sad, because he has already thought that Francis would be with him forever. After all these nights, all kisses, caresses. After all it was France who wanted to make Feliks his lover. No, not a friend. A lover. Poland remembered this like yesterday. But it was several years ago, after the partitions. He was looking for help. Gilbert and Ivan had beaten him. Literally. In addition, Russia took Lithuania, Poland's husband, with him. And Austria took Julia, Feliks' sister, and made her Galicia2, one of the Austrian regions.

And Poland? He has always admired France. And he wanted… No, he needed someone's help. And he found it. Francis agreed and tried to help Feliks, together with Napoleon. But shortly… Francis wanted to make them more than only friends. Feliks remembered his words:

„Will you be my lover?"

As a Catholic he couldn't even think about it. He already believed that partitions were a punishment because of his _sick_ and_ impure_ relationship with Lithuania. Besides, he has thought that France, as a Catholic too, wouldn't propose something like that. But he heard:

„_Mon ami__3_, how could you call this a sin? For me, it's a form of love. And it's a normal thing in my house – many nobles have lovers of both sexes."

Poland has been resisting for a long time, but finally he gave up. Maybe because he was drunk, or maybe because of all these compliments. And Francis seemed to be a very attractive man for him. And that one kiss… At first he has been thinking about Lithuania kissing him. But no. He saw that France's kisses were better, were more… brave. It wasn't the same. Poland could say it – it was much better. And he felt accepted, loved… Even if his body was full of bruises and scars.

Francis taught him many new things in his bedroom. But even though they have spent many nights together, France never said that he loved Feliks. He was only saying such things like: „You are a great lover, _mon ami_", or „_Je t'adore__4_". Yes, he adored him. But didn't love.

Poland was sitting on the bench in the garden. He looked sadly into empty space.

„And maybe… Maybe should I write to Erzsébet? She's my best friend, after all."

_If there's a prize for rotten judgement _

_I guess I've already won that _

_No man is worth the aggravation _

_That's ancient history - been there, done that!_

„But no! She would say that I'm in love with him! But it's so stupid…", he thought.

„Once I was in love… I was in love with Taurys. I feel like he was still my husband, so am I cheating him?", he was confused.

Confused like never before. He didn't even think about cheating. Not during the nights with France. Though once, Francis asked him, cuddling:

„Don't you still have a husband? Isn't it cheating?"

„No. I prefer you to him", he answered and kissed him.

But after that he never stopped thinking about cheating Lithuania.

„No, it's not true! I don't… love… him…"

Poland couldn't deny that, even if he wanted so much. He couldn't do that even in his thoughts.

_I thought my heart had learned its lesson _

_It feels so good when you start out _

_My head is screaming get a grip, boy_

_Unless you're dying to cry your heart out!_

Yes, he thought that he was stupid that he had fallen in love with France - with the country, who was seen as the biggest seducer in the world. But he couldn't help it. His body, his smile, his eyes, his hair, even his facial hair were so attractive… And he was the first, who said to Feliks:

„You're really beautiful."

But still in his thoughts he was seeing Hungary, laughing at the fact that Feliks was in love. And he didn't want to admit this. And he didn't want to say it to France. After all, he had never told Lithuania that he loved him. And what about Francis? He knew him only for about over a dozen years. It was a quite short, like for country's life. He couldn't say it. Not now.

Poland looked up in the window once again. He was sure that Francis was making love at the moment. He couldn't help it.

„After all, I'm only the lover. Not the only one. Not husband."

He decided to come back to France's house and go to sleep. To the room near Francis' bedroom. He tried to be silent, but when he walked near France's bedroom, he could hear laughing and the other sounds of pleasure. Feliks only sighed and went to bed.

Next morning, he woke up and almost forgot that Francis was spending that night with a woman. He was walking to the kitchen, sleepy, when he met France in the hall. Francis came to Feliks and smiled.

„_Bonjour, mon ami_. Where were you all night?"

Poland wasn't sure if he should have tell him what he saw in the window. Instead, he embraced his lover's waist and answered:

„Nowhere."

And he kissed him.

Still he didn't want to admit it, but he hoped that Francis would say „I love you"… Someday.

1French - „Felix, good evening"

2My OC.

3French - „My friend"

4French - „I adore you".


End file.
